Wurst und Maple
by Azumizai
Summary: Canada is an unexpected taste of maple in Germany's home.  Just how will Germany cope with this new maple-y addition?


**Genre **: Vas ist Das!

**Rating **: T for safetyness.

**Disclaimer **: This fanfiction is a pairing fanfiction set in a GENERALIZED universe. If either of these things bug you... I'm sorry! I don't mean to bug you. Also, there will be no spoilers... Somehow I don't think you can spoil Hetalia too much as it... it IS a thing based off History...

**Characters **: Canada. Germany

**Ownership **: I own not Hetalia. Nor am I making money off this.

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**Summary **: Hot Maple.

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**Wurst Und Maple**

"Nein," Germany said, dismissing what had just been said to him. "Nein. You have to say it with more of a 'v' sound when you pronounce it. It's not_ w_urst -" he instructed, trying to put careful emphasis on the right syllable, "- it is more like _v_urst. Do you understand?"

Matthew watched him carefully say the word, and his mouth moved automatically in a silent parrot. Sighing, and nodding, he tried again, "Wurst." He said it a few more times as well, each time trying to add the right sound to the right letter.

Once he was done repeating it ten or so times, he looked hopefully up at Germany, praying that he had gotten it at least _somewhat_ correct.

Letting out a light breath, Germany nodded finally. Canada wasn't completely horrible, and he wasn't exactly _butchering_ the language, but it was extremely rudimentary. Matthew seemed to be able to get the basic jist of how to say each word, but his voice just seemed too soft, too polite for such a hard-tongued language.

Canada bobbed his head in glee when he understood that he had gotten it correct for once, and turned back to the small travel-workbook he had for the German language.

Despite all that - Ludwig thought with admiration - he knew that within a few weeks Canada would have mastered basic German with absolute ease and be speaking the simple phrases without so much as an accent. He knew that Canada had amazing prowess with learning languages; Germany always figured it had something to do with Matthew's personal multiculturalism rather than his country itself.

"Ja, ja," Germany complimented while still looking at Canada with approval. "Very good."

"Thank you," Matthew tittered and Ludwig felt a sharp clamp at the base of his stomach for a fraction of a second.

Clearing his throat, Germany looked away, slightly alarmed at the feeling. "I... I think we should take a break. You are progressing impressively-" and that was true, only an hour in and Matthew was nearly done mastering basic pronunciations, "- but it is high time for breakfast."

Glancing at the clock, and catching a breath in his throat, Matthew stared at the time in bemusement. "Oh my! Is it that time already? Wow... I really haven't gotten used to your timezone yet..."

"It is alright," Ludwig chanced a look back at Matthew, thankful that his stomach didn't make another fearful flip-flop.

Matthew looked back to Germany and stood abruptly. With a vigorous announcement, he strode to the kitchen, "I'll make pancakes!"

Startled, Ludwig stood up. "... Nein, Cana- ... Willia- ... _Matthew_. This is my home and you are not required to cook me anything. You are a guest an-"

Matthew turned, arching his eyebrows. "_Nein_," he joked. "I've come here and cooked plenty of times. _Plenty_ of times," he emphasised. "I think Gilbert has dragged me here so many times that I know your kitchen inside and out. Besides," he started dismissively, turning away from the stunned German, "I'm intruding by taking your guestroom bed. It's the least I can do."

"... But -" Ludwig started, but was cut off again.

"You don't like my pancakes?"

A twist overtook his stomach and it made Germany stop. He fumbled lamely with his words. "No... wh... ... I _like_ your pancakes."

"Then you don't have an issue if I make them?" Canada's voice was nearly _mockingly_ sing-song as he was already starting to dig things out of various cupboards.

A long pause, then Germany let out a long and frustrated breath. This was almost as bad as _Gilbert_ or worse, _Italy_. Rubbing a hand through stiffly-jelled hair, Ludwig finally relented. "... Fine." He said. "Fine. You can make pancakes."

"I appreciate the permission. I was going to anyway," was the simple statement.

Ludwig grunted at this and wondered if Canada had been spending _too much_ time with Gilbert lately for him to make such bold statements in his household. But he wasn't bothered by it; instead, he was more or less amused.

Once the surprise of being forcibly made pancakes wore off, Germany set off to help Matthew with getting ready. He helped the Northern American nation find the maple he had hidden in the kitchen and with a sweeping movement, Ludwig hoisted a large, green, and fluttering apron up and over Canada's shoulders and started tying it at the back.

He only mumbled when questioned about it, "... So your clothes don't get dirty."

And that was that.

Feeling useless now that he had nothing else to do, Ludwig sat himself down in a chair around the kitchen table and rested his chin in his hand, watching the other nation start to pour out batter in thick ribbons onto a sizzling-hot pan.

Loud sounds of pancakes being cooked filled the air and Germany just observed the other nation.

It was most baffling that Canada was there right then. It wasn't often that he'd get someone other than Italy dropping in on his company. The circumstances of it had been a bit strange, but... not entirely unwelcome.

No... The more baffling thing was that Matthew was there taking _lessons_ from him at all. They were in the middle of week-long conferences in Germany, talking to officials, when he came to the absolutely startling discovery that Matthew didn't understand a _word_ of German.

Ludwig had witnessed Matthew floundering in front of several officials and had to sweep in to save him. Gilbert had been there, but he had been a complete ass and hadn't so much opened his mouth to offer any sort of respite to Canada.

Usually Germany didn't notice the other nation so much - he was generally outshone by his beaming brother - but he really couldn't help it now that Matthew was staying as a guest in his house because of accidently-cancelled lodgings at his hotel. For some reason, the people there forgot he had booked at all.

It worked out though, because he had proposed - much to his surprise - that he could teach Canada how to speak basic German for the week ahead and the other _glowingly agreed_.

Now the other nation was definitely within Germany's sight. There was absolutely no denying his existence when he was standing _right __in front__ of him_.

Curiously, he observed the other as Matthew flipped the second pancake easily on the pan, letting it crisp to perfect golden-brown. What was it that he was recognising?

Well. Canada was a very much the son of France, that much was true, but there was a definite _English_ air that tainted all of it. Like a silent rebellion and shunting of any sort of French influence, tweaking it enough to _just_ be able to be denied as being completely French.

Looking at him more, Germany had no idea why Matthew was seen to be Alfred's _exact double_. Sure, they had similarities, but everything from the lighter-blonde hair - that was slightly reddish - to the _purple_ eyes denounced any sort of absolute resemblance.

The more he looked at him, the more he was disgusted at all the times he had assumed Matthew and Alfred were indeed the same person.

Ludwig continued to watch Matthew has he turned over the third, fourth, and fifth pancakes.

He knew the resemblance to France wasn't what was getting to him. So he thought harder, idly glancing over at the other man, totally unaware that he was staring somewhat. Canada didn't seem to notice - or care, if he did.

His golden hair that twisted in a vague resemblance to France's, soft lavender eyes, pale skin that seemed fragile and soft...

Germany's thoughts were trailing now, his mind going off into very strange territory.

When he thought about it, Matthew _was_ France's son. France was also Feliciano's _brother_ in a weird sort of way. So he found himself finding strange resemblances and... _qualities_ that Canada shared with his 'uncle'.

A soft rounded face. He was male, but definitely not _masculine_. He wouldn't have made a very pretty girl, but there was something about how he just _was _that was very_ -_

_ Ahem_.

He looked away when Canada had met eyes with him and stared at the fridge.

Matthew's eyes were awfully pretty-looking in the pale light of the morning sun bridging through the window. They had shone sharper than ever, and he was _really_ starting to wonder why he hadn't noticed them before.

When he glanced back, Matthew was just grinning at him, his pale - enticing- lavender eyes slightly half-lidded. The pancakes were done, the stove was off, and Canada was slowly walking towards the German.

Stopping a few feet from him, he bent so he could be at Ludwig's eye-level; as Germany was still sitting down.

A strangely familliar sound came from Matthew's lips, "_You know, I didn't come here because I couldn't speak German_," Matthew said cleanly. "_That was just an excuse_."

Ludwig only just realised why Canada's speaking sounded so off. He was speaking _German_. Fluently. Absolutely perfectly.

He gaped.

Canada smiled. "It was," he sounded suddenly sheepish and apologetic, "An excuse... to lie to you about not being able to speak German." His voice lowered to a murmur. "And... I... lied about the hotel. I... never booked."

Ludwig still gaped.

"I was... you know... _wondering_..."

He was very close now, and Ludwig was sort of struck absolutely dumb by the closeness of the northern American nation.

"... Just... wondering..."

Germany took in a light breath. Wondering? Wondering wha-

Oh.

_OH._

His breath caught in his throat and he looked around wildly before looking at the half-apologetic half-desperate Canadian.

Germany was shocked with what his mind was doing. "I..." What was he- "I..." Was he really- "... **_Ja_**."

To hell with it.

The chair was shoved back unceremoniously and the pancakes were absolutely forgotten.

Besides.

Pancakes could be eaten cold.

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**Author's Notes : **I... I have no idea. I have NO idea. I really don't. I have no words... I have no words at all. Words have left me. I have no idea how I am typing this right now. No words. No words. Speechless. I have no idea.

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Thanks for reading!** Read and review, please!**  
>... try not to be disturbed.<p> 


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